


Herr Doktor SilberneKlinge und Der Herr der Ringe

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Vicky Bliss - Elizabeth Peters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-20
Updated: 2008-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1637651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Direktor has a new hobby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Herr Doktor SilberneKlinge und Der Herr der Ringe

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks Mayhap for giving me an opportunity about Schmidt! I hope you enjoyed it.   
>  Thanks to Catrinella for the beta. 
> 
> Written for mayhap

 

 

The office had been quiet, and a bit boring, all month. It seemed that everyone else in my profession was taking a holiday at the seaside. The only respite was the work on my new never-to-be published novel (featuring Alessandra, the daughter of the heroine of my previous efforts), Schmidt's ebullient feedback, and now my feedback on his magnum opus on the further adventures of Frodo Baggins and his beloved Sam Gamgee. It was surprisingly good, and to my immense relief, solidly PG-rated. I didn't have anything against hobbits, but I drew the line at the notion of editing sex scenes written by my boss. I figured if was restrained enough to write euphemistically about Alessandra's "honeyed depths", then he could return the favor with whatever passed for the same with hobbits, not that I intended to ask.

He had recently posted the epic to his favorite web archive and each morning reported to me the most recent comments. He had a growing number of fans who clamored for more adventures (an idea I agreed with) and more explicitness (which I did not). The new hobby was doing great things for his mood, and Schmidt had even begun taking regular walks for exercise in the morning as it helped him clear his head and develop his plots. Between his new lady friend and Frodo and Sam, the memory of Suzi seemed to be fading. In fact, Schmidt was so involved with his new activities that he had even refused John's and my invitation for drinks on the next Saturday night. He claimed he would be too busy with a "ficathon" but would report on the following Monday.

*

That Monday I arrived at the office obscenely early; it was John's fault, as he'd had to leave for a flight back to London. I decided that since I was awake, I might as well go to the office and have a few hours of uninterrupted quiet. It was not to be.

The offices at the museum were dark except for the sliver of light coming from Schmidt's half-open office door. I walked down the hall towards it; he obviously hadn't heard me come in (despite the minor racket of dealing with the alarm system) because I could hear him muttering to himself.

"Ach, that is so **wrong**."

He sounded pretty angry; I tapped on the door and stuck my head in. "Schmidt? Everything okay?"

"Oh, Vicky, I am sorry," he looked up at me from behind the monitor, slightly abashed. "I was reading and got carried away."

I flopped in the old armchair beside his desk. "News?"

He flushed slightly. "No, nothing so serious. It is just a blog I read," Schmidt grimaced. "Until today I did not realize that the author was such a bigot!"

"What are you reading?" I leaned forward, trying to see the screen and expecting to see something about a defense of a new German national socialism movement or something similar. Instead, the web page on the screen was a bright green, bordered with vines, a faux-newspaper type masthead at the top. _Catina's Shire Daily Gazette: News and Opinions_. "Shire Daily Gazette? This is some Tolkien thing?"

Schmidt was no longer looking embarrassed, though he was still flushed. "Yes, Catina is a very good and respected source for news and events in the fandom, and I have been a faithful reader for months but I will have to comment on her most recent post. What she says is not right."

Schmidt sounded like he was working up a righteous head of steam, so it had to be fairly bad. "What's she say?" I scooted my chair closer to Schmidt's.

"She is refusing to recommend any romantic stories about Gandalf! She says he is too old and that no one should want to read about his "skinny wrinkly body" especially against the "supple skin of a brave young elf."

I almost giggled at the last; it had to be a quote from the site but Schmidt seemed pretty angry so I swallowed the urge.

He continued, "Catina has determined that it is not only not sexy to read about persons of a certain age in romantic relationships but that it is, in fact, _disrespectful_ to think of Gandalf in that way! As if," he snorted, "persons of a certain age do not think of or have sexual relations!"

I pushed thoughts of Schmidt and his novelist friend (more than a friend?) out of my mind, and leaned in to read the objectionable post. He had a point; this Catina person was certainly adamant in the opinion that anyone with any taste at all would only wish to read about the exploits of the youthful hobbits or svelte elves. She apparently had never thought about the fact that one day she wouldn't be a spring chicken herself; I doubted she was past thirty. "What will you say?"

Schmidt squared his shoulders and set his fingers on the keyboard. "Will you be so kind as to make us some coffee, Vicky? Or perhaps go to that little shop on the corner for a pastry? I will need sustenance!"

*

I did as he asked, obtaining two cups of strong coffee as well as a box of pastries. I left a coffee and the box (minus a jelly doughnut for myself) on his desk but he barely seemed to notice when I did. His fingers were flying across the keyboard and he had an expression of intense concentration. When he emerged nearly an hour later, Schmidt was wearing an expression John had taken to calling his "Alphabet Schmidt" face - only a trifle smug, but definitely victorious.

"I have endeavored to correct young Catina's beliefs. My only regret is that she lives in the Eastern United States so it will likely be some hours until she is awake to read my comment. "

*

Knowing that it was only 8:00 am in Munich and that Catina was hours behind us did not stop Schmidt from refreshing her blog at least every half hour. It wasn't until after lunch that Catina responded. I stood behind Schmidt, leaning down to read over his shoulder. Her response indicated that she was unconvinced. Catina not only maintained her opinions, but added that it was a "free country" and she could choose to write about - or not write about whatever she wished and that this "SilberneKlinge" person was attempting to quash her Freedom of Speech. By this point, even I was getting a bit testy with Catina's attitude about what constituted censorship, as well as her opinions on Gandalf, and even considered for a brief moment entering the fray myself before Schmidt shooed me out of his office.

"I regret, Vicky, that I must have quiet to plan my next volley." 

God bless him, he actually looked happy. I left him to enjoy his challenge and retreated to my office to answer some mail with occasional (well, perhaps more than occasional) looks at the Shire Daily Gazette. True to his form as a world-class fencer, Schmidt argued deftly and pointedly, exposing the (many) flaws in Catina's arguments and making a number of insightful points of his own. A few of Catina's regular readers chimed in to agree with her assertions and I wondered how Schmidt was handling the onslaught. I was about to go offer moral support when the phone rang. A costume scholar from the V&A was requesting to review the Graf von und zu Gefenstein's underwear collection and so I was distracted by work until the end of the day.

The door to my office burst open at quarter past six and a very pleased Schmidt stood proudly, fingering his mustache. "My Vicky, it is too late to be working! Since John is back in London, I will take you out for a beer and wurst." He grabbed my raincoat from the hook and thrust it at me. "It is raining; you will need this."

"What's behind his change in mood? I figured your nemesis would have you up all night arguing."

"Oh, you have not seen? It seems I too have a fan," he winked at me and I refreshed the page.

A newcomer had left a comment: **GreyLadyWriter** wrote: _While I certainly respect Catina's right to her own opinion, I am saddened not only that she is closed-minded but that she is not yet at the time in her life when she has met a man of a mature age who has swept her off her feet. When I look back upon my own youth, I do not miss the days of being clumsily courted by callow youths. I am fortunate enough now to have met a man as dashing as Strider, as loyal as Sam Gamgee, as strong as Gimli, as wise as Gandalf, and more handsome than a thousand blond elves. I can only hope that Catina's mind will be changed in the future if she is as fortunate as I._

When I looked back up at Schmidt, he was beaming.

"Your novelist friend?"

He nodded. "She is a gem, nicht?"

As I turned off my monitor and put on my coat he continued, "And it is a lucky thing you and I were planning on a visit to the States in a few weeks."

"It is?" I had not particularly been looking forward to traveling to the southeast in sticky late summer, but as our museum was contributing to an exhibit curated by an old friend at a museum there, it could not be avoided.

"Oh, yes," Schmidt continued as we trotted down the hall, "It so happens that the exhibit opening coincides with a large science fiction and fantasy convention and my Grey Lady will be in attendance and how could her dashing KilberSchwartz leave her unescorted? We will help plan our costumes over dinner. One night I can be her loyal Sam, the next her handsome Ranger..."

His voice faded as he continued down the hall and I had stopped dead.

" _Our costumes?_ "

Schmidt stopped and turned. "Aber naturlich. You cannot miss it. Besides, who but you could be such a stately Galadriel?" He paused for a moment in thought before continuing, "It is a shame we probably cannot convince your John to come along. His lithe physique would make for a perfect Legolas. Ah, well, we must get a table before the crowds gather." He continued down the hall and after another moment, I followed, grinning. Really, I thought, John owed me a lot for years of narrow escapes and unpaid hotel receipts. Surely a weekend in tights and a wig were worth it, nicht? 

 


End file.
